Maiden of Winter
by Stormbreaker99
Summary: Luna was a young child when it happened; she didn't even know how it occurred. All she knew was that on one winter day, an old woman died. The next, her entire world changed: dark forces conspire against her and her family, forces with the power to destroy everything she has ever loved. All she has is an ancient power, but perhaps that is enough to stop the demons from without.


**A/N:**

 **Hello! Storm here. Welcome to my second RWBY fanfic. This is a companion story to Quadruple Quartet, written in collaboration with Xedina Fairlady (primarily her). This story will focus on the idea of the Season Maidens and how that will affect a young girl gifted with such immense power.**

 **We hope you enjoy the prologue! Don't forget to review!**

* * *

 **Destiny**

Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different in Mistral.

I guess Vale isn't too bad.

The weather's okay, particularly for a winter. It was temperate and comparatively warm to the constant, chilly Mistrallian air. The people were friendly enough—I suppose. I haven't really seen much of the city since our move to Patch, but from the short drive to the harbor, I saw a good bit of the older buildings, like the pictures in my books, with their tightly packed apartments and houses perched on street corners. Smoke streamed out of bakeries and diners smelled of tomato sauce and bread and cheese. Skyscrapers dominated the skyline, a sign of the growing modernity in a city filled predominantly with ethnic neighborhoods.

The Island of Patch, unfortunately, was going to be my new home.

At that time, eight-year-old me was worried. Eight-year-old me didn't do well with water. Even now, I still tread softly near the unassuming liquid. Knowing my unease, I was given a small parting gift from my uncle. He's a great guy, really: tall, turquoise colored hair—a shade lighter than my dad's more teal hair—and always full of strange little surprises. This morning's gift was a silver, crescent moon pendant, a reminder of my name, if not one about my deathly fear of water.

I remember hugging him after that. Then I hugged my cousins. All four of them. And I remember each of them hugging me back in turn. Tyson, Tommy, Tina, and Ted, nearly identical quadruplets, were not only my cousins, but my extended older brothers and sister. When you're an only child, sometimes you want those extra members to support you. Today, I remember being smothered, completely overwhelmed by love and other such things that a child shies away from. Tina gave me a particularly long squeeze with her arms, as well as a pack of new clothes that she insisted would make me look impressive to my new neighbors. The boys gave me something much more immediate and useful: mounds upon mounds of snacks for the long ride to Patch.

Those guys always knew what to do.

So when we finally did get to the harbor, touching down on a Bullhead offered by my uncle because he was completely rich (running a multinational security company usually did that for a man), I had eaten almost half of the food. My lips were covered with cheese, my hands with salt and buttery liquid. A few dark-stained spots stuck out on my baby blue skirt, on top of insulated black pants, and I could already see Mom's face at the greasy blotches. She hated when I ate messily. Luckily, none got on my matching blue parka and fur-lined hood. Somehow that remained as immaculate as the day it was bought.

The boat ride over the churning, icy chunked ocean to Patch was by far the most miserable experience of the entire trip. I had to keep my eyes focused ahead, thinking calming thoughts like how easily it would be to prank Tommy, what kind of tricks I could play on Tyson without making him annoyed, and how many kernels of popcorn Ted and I could stuff our faces with without choking or throwing up. Those were some good times, and sadly, I knew that they might be gone.

Sniffing quietly, I averted my eyes and felt a sudden wave of nausea hit. It crashed into my stomach just like the wave crashed into our ferry and rocked me in my seat. Shuddering, I felt a hand land on my shoulder and glanced over to my dad's face, handsome (in my honest opinion), and tanned, darker than uncle Zion. The beginnings of a beard fuzzed up his cheeks and chin, and I recalled his playful attack the other night. Those light bristles were so ticklish.

He smiled lightly and pressed a finger to his lips, a merry twinkle dancing in his dark blue eyes. Leaning in, he whispered, "Two rows up, two seats over."

I followed his gaze to a woman wearing a fancy, wide-brimmed, green hat with stylish feathers sticking off the top. She looked to be of upper-class, and I felt an instant dislike for her. Her hand was cupped over her mouth, and even from here, I knew she was feeling sick. Giggling, I nudged my dad, and he grinned, ruffling my light green ponytail. I continued to watch as she haughtily said something to her husband, a man with slicked back blonde hair, dressed prim and proper in a business suit lined with fur.

What business could there be in Patch?

The woman continued to complain, getting louder and louder when we hit a rough cluster of ice, smacking into the ferry one after the other. I couldn't bear it any longer. She threw back her chocolate brown hair in the most stuck up way imaginable. I clenched my fists and made to get up, to say something, _anything_ , that would just _shut her up_.

"Luna, stop."

My dad's voice broke into the growing cloud encasing my brain, and his hand squeezed down. I momentarily paused to check myself when a particularly large wave bounced me around, plopping myself unceremoniously into his lap. He chuckled at my sprawled form and flicked my nose, saying, "Luna, be still. You'll throw up if you move so much."

That I could not deny and quickly sprung upright, world spinning like a marble blasted from the end of a spring. I clenched my eyes shut and decided to forget the lady and her husband. Statue-still, I was the picture of obedience and nothing else occurred until we docked at the harbor. There I managed to remove myself from the rocking death trap and almost danced a jig on dry land. Fortunately, I remembered just in time to be presentable, brushing off the crumbs and hardened candy bits on my clothes.

We were greeted immediately by my mom.

She was a strict mom, and she was a tough mom. But she was also a loving mom. Currently, her hands were tucked behind her back, head held high, a lady of elegance that paused even my dad, who has seen her for over fifteen years now. Yet, his words were always the same when he saw her again everyday:

"Well aren't you a gorgeous lady," he teased.

She rolled her eyes, but I could detect a trace of happiness in her expression; her wolf ears twitched just a tad as he moved to peck her on the lips. "I have a meeting in two hours," was her reply, and my dad snorted. He hated meetings, I knew, and despised all of the nitty-gritty details of paperwork. As a Hunter, his methods of solving dilemmas were more hands-on than my mom's lawyer-like tendencies.

I waited patiently for my turn to greet her, which gave time for me to examine her outfit: a simple, albeit elegant gray dress with a strapless bodice covered with a shimmering, pleated fabric. It was knee-length and sleeveless, accentuated by a matching thermal jacket and a small, turquoise pin over her left breast. The pin bore the crashing waves symbol that is our family crest. It sat below the grays scarf around her neck. On her feet were a pair of heeled boots, clopping as she gracefully slid into my dad's embrace.

After he said a few whispered words, I was finally allowed to present myself. I did so with a leaping jump, wrapping my arms around her thin waist and digging my face into her stomach. "Mommy!" I said and felt a hand run down my back in soothing pats. Dad must've told her about my dizzy bout.

"Hello, Luna. Are you alright?"

"Yes," I admitted softly. "I'm okay." Wiggle wiggle. I burrowed further into her dress and took a deep breath. She smelled like soaps and lavender.

"Do you want to drink some water? I have some in the car."

"No mommy. Could we go see the house now?" I peered up and gave her my cutest look so as to banish the worry ringing in her voice. I didn't want to bother and bent my own white wolf ears, perfectly getting the pleading look.

Mom softened immediately. I internally cheered when she nodded, offered her hand, and led me away from the dock that stood precariously over the rippling water. "Of course," she said, "Come along."

With Dad heaving along our suitcases and packs, denying help from an aide, we walked to the parking lot where our rented van sat misted in the cold. It was a coal-like black and opening the doors triggered a release of warmth. I helped Dad load our things and nabbed my last bag of coconut puffs, stuffing it into my pocket and clambering into the backseat. I immediately sprawled along the entire length. Dad reached back to poke my stomach, a reflexive recoil the natural reaction. He laughed, and I stuck out my tongue.

"Meanie," I mumbled, and his mirth increased. I rolled my eyes similar to Mom; the action was reciprocated to Dad's joy. He clapped his hands.

"Haha, you guys crack me up," he blubbered gleefully. I knew he wanted to say more, but that was interrupted by a gag. The strong odor of citrus assaulted my nose and congested my airways, causing a coughing fit to break loose.

Quickly, he turned around in the passenger seat and offered his hand. I clutched it, watching him toss the orange scented ornament out the window. The piece fluttered in the wind as my mom rolled her eyes again, earning her another kiss. Then the car started up, and she pulled out of our parking spot, carefully maneuvering the vehicle towards our new home.

* * *

It had been one week since I've arrived at my new house.

Settling in wasn't too much a problem; I was already anticipating the move for months, the design for my room meticulously picked from a catalogue. When we arrived, the movers followed the instructions of a woman dressed in a white, paint splattered t-shirt and equally messy jeans. She had a paintbrush tucked behind one ear and gave directives for the furniture—place the couch there, the table here. I was reminded of ants following a queen as the workers organized the living room, the dining room, the basement and our bedrooms.

Mine was furnished first per my request. The single bed was entirely blue and topped with a giant, fluffy pillow. The blankets were decorated with stars, and I made sure that there was plenty of space for my toys. Then came my desk, a sturdy oak that my Mom said would be the spot where I performed my studies. It was easily my least favorite object in the room. Beside it was a wastebasket shaped like a hoop. The chair had wheels covered in felt, and a massive rug overlay the cool, wooden floor.

On the ceiling, I attached glow-in-the-dark stickers and plastics: planets, moons, stars, comets and various astral bodies that swirled in dim green, blue, and pink.

It was in this self stylized room that I found myself, stomach down, fiddling with a scroll tablet and trying to establish a video chat with my friends in Mistral. I jolted when a knock resounded from my door.

 _Thumph! Thumph! Thumph!_

A second later, the knocks sounded again, this time going _Thumph-thumph! Thumph-thumph!_ instead of the previous, slower pattern. I smiled, knowing who it was.

"Come in," I called out. I thumbed through another app that was supposed to connect me to my friends but didn't and looked up to see Dad standing in the doorway. Fingers pecking at the keys, I closed the scroll. "Hey, did you need me?"

"Hey yourself," he grunted and pushed the door further open. "Robyn's here to play. She's waiting for you downstairs."

Ooh yay, I thought and tossed the phone on to the bed. It bounced once, landing safely on my smiley face emoticon pillow. Quickly hugging my dad, I bounded down the stairs to meet my newest friend. Racing into the living room, I saw Robyn with a glass of juice, most likely apple, legs crossed on our beige velvet couch. She waved idly, magazine on her lap, and took a sip from her glass.

"Drinking that again, Robyn?" I giggled. She glared at me in annoyance. I yelped as the rolled up magazine flew at my face. "Hey! Not nice!"

"Maybe, but that's what you get for not even trying the drink," Robyn smirked. "Anyway are you ready to go out and play? I thought maybe we could go skating."

I paused at that word.

"S-skating?"

"Yes, s-skating." My friend rolled her walnut brown eyes. She hopped off the couch, and I retreated a step from the amused, crooked grin that she allowed to split her lips into a giant banana. "What's the deal, Luna? It'll be fun!"

"But… isn't it a little cold? And… I don't have any skates!"

Immediately after I said those last words, I knew it was an awful excuse. I had ice skates buried somewhere at the bottom of my things, still unpacked from move-in day. I hadn't bothered to open the miscellaneous things, seeing as how I hardly thought I would be ice skating any time soon, and certainly not over a lake. There were no rinks on Patch, because there didn't need to be. A lake was about a mile away from my house.

Robyn rolled her eyes again. She knew all about the lake but thankfully chose not to mention it.

"Oh come on, Luna. It will be fun! It's almost spring, and we should do fun things before we go to Signal." She placed her glass down. "Besides, I think you need to get over your fear of water."

"I don't want to get over it," I mumbled and wiggled my toes on carpeted floor. "It's too cold anyways to go skating."

"That's the whole point." Robyn spread out her arms and made skating motions with her fingers. "You can't skate when it's summer, dum-dum. All the ice would be water, and you'll even be _more_ afraid. Why are you afraid anyways? It's just a little water."

"I don't really want to talk about."

"Come on tell me. Please?" She gave her best puppy eyes. Before she could press for more, a snort sounded to our right. My dad stood in the doorway with the widest grin. In his hands were a pair of silver-blue skates decorated with rainbows and sparkles. Robyn's grin came back full force, and she bolted towards my dad in my stunned silence.

"Aha! So you do have skates! Liar liar, bonnet on fire!" Impishly tugging the pair from his hands, receiving a conspiratorial nose tap in return, she raced back and pushed the skates into my arms. "Put them on. Come on, Luna. Let's go!"

I reluctantly held the skates and wracked my brain for another excuse. None to mind, and I was hurriedly forced into my parka and thick pants in case of slips. Dad tucked gloves and a beanie on my hands and head, then led us to the door. Robyn bounced excitedly up and down, dressed also in winter wear. Hers looked slimmer though and much cooler, midnight blue like her curly hair. I was a tad jealous, but the emotion was swamped by anxiety.

"Do we have to go?" I tried again.

Robyn pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Yes, Luna. Don't be a buzzkill about it."

I saw Dad raise an eyebrow at the word. He said nothing and opened the door. A draft of cold swiped at our face. My friend hopped outside with me attached to her arm. I yelped, clinging on to my skates. A boot covered foot soon plunged into the thigh high snow. Gasping, I shivered and followed the joyful bundle floundering rambunctiously ahead of me. Robyn seemed to find every mountain of poofy snow, promptly hurling herself into it, then out the other side. She laughed, hair stained white.

"Isn't this fun?" she said. I shook my head, but she easily spotted the smile peeking from my lips. "It is! Luna, don't joke!" Laughing once more, she trudged over and grabbed my arm. Then, out of nowhere, her free hand came straight up, smashing a handful of freezing power into my face.

"Robyn!" I cried.

My arms windmilled wildly, and her laughter floated into the frosty air. I ended up falling on my butt and soaking the top inch of my pants. Mumbling inaudibly about stupid wet clothes, I let Robyn drag me upright and pat me down. She wore such a grin that I wanted to slap her silly for pulling that stunt. But I didn't because she was my friend, and because it wasn't too awful to begin with. It was just snow. You couldn't drown in snow.

So I got Robyn back when she wasn't looking, hurling a fist sized orb at her shoulders. We broke into an impromptu snowball fight after that. Flurries flung into the air and our merriment resulted in childish mirth. For ten minutes, huddled behind impenetrable walls, pretending we were Huntresses facing off against opposing ne'er-do-wells, I forgot about my fears. Naive imaginations took over. The snow covered street became a battlefield, I a fearless war maiden defending my home.

"Begone!" I screeched giddily, hurling forth my arm. "I banish thee from this land!"

"No, I banish _thee_!" Robyn replied with an accurately thrown ball that smacked me in my leg. I crumpled over, and she continued to pelt my downed form. "I banish the banisher! Haha!"

"Nooooo!" I giggled and covered my face with the back of my hand. "I'm wounded," I faked, "Hurt! My leg!"

"I'll rescue you!" She jumped over next to me and we both tumbled to the ground, holding our stomachs. "I—haha! CPR! CPR!" Hands pressed on my gut, and she tried to pump air into empty lungs. All that did was force more out as I giggled till my stomach hurt. "Breathe! Breathe!"

"I-I… I can't!" I laughed and threw her off.

We both made snow angels after that. Hers were a bit larger than mine with her extra inch in height, but I didn't mind. We spent a few more minutes goofing off before Robyn remembered her mission. Half dragging, she managed to tug me to the lake in the next few minutes. Then she swiped my skates from where they hung on my hips, tied there during our skirmish. Untying them, she dropped them by my feet and pointedly looked at them. I sighed at her meaning.

"Do I have to?" I whined. "The lake doesn't look that safe anyways."

She crossed her arms and looked out on to the frozen expanse. It was a bad excuse, seeing how the entire top of the lake had been frozen ever since my second day on Patch. The weather had not lifted, so the thing should be fully iced on the top most layer. There were also several people already skating around. She gestured to them like they explained everything about the situation. Like it was supposed to fix the roiling fear that crept back into my stomach. Like it was supposed to reassure me of the dark depths below.

"See, Luna. There are people here. They're bigger than both of us, too. The ice can hold them, so it must hold us." Robyn shrugged. "It's simple psychics."

I grinned at that. "It's physics, Rob, not psychics. A psychic is someone who can read minds and talk to ghosts."

"Whatever. Still, doesn't this prove my point?"

I was about to point out that nothing could ever be proved, only supported. I'd learned that often from Tyson who seemed to love saying that, especially when it came to explaining science-y things. But I shut my mouth at her glare. Sighing in resignation, I nodded and leaned down to change into my skates. Robyn stopped me with a hand.

"Wait, let's go to the other side. That way we can be closer to help in case something does happen." She shyly scratched her head. "You know, for safety and stuff."

I grinned wider, glad to have her as a friend. We made our way over to the other people and passed an hunched over, old looking woman. I curtsied politely, and she waved in return. Her hair was as white as finely ground sugar, curly and short. It reminded me of a cotton ball, but more detailed and better managed. She had the face of a wise grandma, someone who has seen much and done much in her long life. There was also a playfulness there, shown when she kicked up her feet to spray cones of snow in front of her. I turned to watch and saw that she was alone.

"Rob," I whispered. "Let's skate here, okay?"

She agreed immediately and waited for me to get ready. While I took off my boots and changed into my skates, I kept staring at the old woman. It was weird; I didn't know why I stared, just that she suddenly seemed important and different. Her clothes were equally intriguing: instead of wearing heavy winter vestments, she had on a simple long sleeved cream colored blouse and black silken pants. Her feet had no boots but a pair of simple flats. Now that I thought about it, her ankles were constantly stuck into the freezing temperature, and she was undisturbed by this. She even played with a clump of snow, fashioning it into an unrecognizable shape. Everything about her seemed serene and peaceful, if not for the temperatures she was exposed to.

"Ready?"

Robyn's voice broke into my examination. She nudged me a few times. Shaking my head, I went back to my skates and gestured for her to go on; my friend bounced up and down a few times in preparation. "I'll go first!" she said. Then she stepped on to the ice and walked a few paces. I gasped as she suddenly leapt. When she came down, the boots that had previously gone unnoticed created clicking sounds. A pair of blades, which I first had mistaken as simple border designs, extended flatly from her foot. Then they flipped and came together, forming one single ice skate blade. She landed gracefully and her arms spread like wings.

Gliding backwards, she smirked smugly. "Beat that, Luna."

Taking the challenge, I finished tying up my skates and performed the same jump as her, worry gone from my mind. For some reason, I was okay with the water. I didn't know why. With a crunch, I landed and raced after my friend. We both giggled as we zipped around like hornets. We went from one end to the other and looped around the other skaters, creating figure eights into the untouched, crystalline surface.

"Watch this!" Robyn hollered and performed a spin in the air. I mimicked her, but with less magnitude. Whereas she spun six times, I spun thrice. Then she momentarily did a handstand on the ice, for a half second, before flipping over and moving smoothly behind me.

I tried to do everything she did, but I could not. Robyn was a natural. She moved with unparalleled agility over the ice, and I found myself temporarily jealous. On a series of spins, she was a top that moved singularly on one leg around in place. I attempted the swift spins after she finished, the world a kaleidoscope of colors. Then I was pulled left, the tip of my skates caught in a microscopic crack.

"Eeek!" I yelped, throwing my arms out to regain balance. It worked momentarily, then I crashed downwards. Both hands skid across the coarse surface, and I felt them throb. Rob helped me up and patted the excess snow off my back.

"Try again," she said. "This time, keep yourself tight. You were spreading out too much. My mom said that if you don't, you'll lose speed and you'll fall."

I grunted a reply and made to try again. Hardly had I begun the twirls when I heard a noise. It went _chink chink chink!_ somewhere beneath me. Huh, I frowned, relaxed for a few seconds to identify the sound. I could almost make it out. It sounded like clinking, like metal gears rotating against metal gears. That was followed by a high-pitched squeak, sort of like the brief screech of a rusty door.

"Luna," Robyn called. "Whatcha waiting for? Come on! Try the twirl like I told you." She performed a mini version. "See, like that. Hey, what are you looking at?"

I realized how intensely I stared at the ice and shook my head. "I… It's nothing. I thought I heard something. Must've been nothing." Shaking again, I breathed out. I could feel my heart racing, and the hairs on my arms brushed up against my jacket's sleeves. "Anyways, you ready?" Trying to push confidence into my tone, I glided forth a few steps. A one, and a two, and a threeee—!

 _BOOOSSHH!_

The ice beneath me suddenly exploded outwards, debris raining over my head. For a split second, I hung in midair. Then, I plunged into the bone chilling water. "Wh-what?!" I yelled and flailed my arms around. Like a flood, the nightmares of drowning and suffocating rushed back in total, brain stopping power. I couldn't see! I couldn't breathe! I couldn't—I couldn't…

"Glugghh—hel—glugguggh!"

Somebody help!

"Help—ughgluglug!"

I swallowed another mouthful of water, clawing for anything to cling to. There was a cry from my left—Robyn? Was that you? Robyn! my waterlogged mind screamed. Robyn help!

"Huuuuhh!" I managed to break the surface long enough to spot my friend and inhale. Her hand was outstretched and I made to reach for it. The tips of our fingers brushed. "Rob!"

"I got you Luna! Grab my hand! You're almost there! Come on! Come—noooooooo!"

Her fingers slipped away as a jaw clamped onto my leg. It felt like a vice, and Dad's vague lessons on aura, life forces, and whatnot surfaced in my quickly fading consciousness. I could feel its teeth, yet not at the same time. I felt ethereal; I was floating off to one side, watching the scene unfold at a snail's pace. I could see Robyn pushing off—such a good friend—to go after me. I could see the old lady with her arms outstretched. I could see cracked tendrils zoom across the frozen lake.

And then I felt myself dragged under, pulled into the embrace of empty blackness.

* * *

Robyn watched, horrified, as her friend was sucked underwater, a piece of toilet paper swirling down the drain. Luna's body spiraled from existence, and Robyn abruptly realized how dark the lake really was. In the summer, the bottom was nearly visible, but now, in the middle of winter, such beautiful clarity had turned into the suffocating warmth of a tomb. And her new friend, her _best_ friend, was trapped within, out of her reach and without support.

It didn't take much for Robyn to recklessly leap into the water. Her mom could berate her later. Luna needed saving and that's what she was going to get. But the blue-haired girl would not get far; an invisible force jerked her body halfway on its descent and flung her skywards. She tumbled head over heels, landing roughly in a soft pillow of white powder. Grunting, she pushed herself up to her feet, shaking off the freezing blanket of snow, and rubbed the numbing water off her face.

"Okay," she muttered. "Who did that?" Her fists clenched up, and she looked around for the darn interloper. She expected somebody to smirk her way, perhaps a person with a handlebar mustache. Someone truly diabolical. But there was no to her left, or right, only a blurry figure in front of her, some thirty meters away.

Staggering through thigh-high snow, Robyn approached the edge of the lake. Chunks of ice floated idly, interrupted every now and then by a tiny wave, thudding the ice against other pieces. She bit her lip and raised a foot to wade into the water.

"No!" a voice boomed. "Stay where you are!"

Robyn stubbornly shook her head and went in anyways, the water shooting needles into her legs. She gasped and continued to walk. Nobody was going to stop her from saving her friend, especially not a person she couldn't even make out. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the chilly zephyrs whipping past her cheeks. The water rose to her chest then to her neck, and finally, it was deep enough for her to swim. With a deep breath, she plunged under and concentrated on the world around her.

Imagine a place where everything moved with snail-like speed, drenched in molasses and layered with honey. Every creature resonated its presence through undulating pulses of energy; its life marked by cascades of electrons. She could see the people above, stunned onlookers who gaped at the spectacle, and finally 'saw' the person in the fog. She could hardly believe her own vision, which was no more illuminating than the feeling of someone's shape standing behind you, a kind of sixth sense that could elucidate the darkest of nights.

What before was a swirling storm became the radiant shape of the old lady. The amount of life blasting off her body was astounding, and Robyn realized with another shock that she was levitating, actually _levitating_ , in the air. Her curly hair drizzled about her head, and Robyn was reminded of a halo. Both feet suspended themselves freely in a funnel of water, and her fists, pale and beating with blue-green veins, pointed towards the ice. An intense heat surrounded her face, and a protective orb-like barrier literally sizzled around her.

How was she doing that?

The rational part of the young girl's mind tried to find the source of all that power. She tried to find the weapon, the glowing inlaid dust that Luna had told her was a design in some hunters' weapons. Luna's dad had shown Robyn how it worked, and she had been amazed for hours, trying to activate the particles. This old woman showed no signs of dust use—she could not sense any—and that confused the girl even more.

But that didn't matter, she told herself. She had to find Luna.

So she focused again, reaching into the dark void for her friend. It didn't take long. Luna was dimly lit and unmoving. Her body rested against a submerged log, draped lifelessly across the soggy bark. Robyn gasped, accidentally sucking in water. Then something flit by, fast, and different, the kind of different that sent shivers running down one's spine. It was followed by another, causing the girl to freeze, heart thundering in her chest as she waited for them to notice her.

One second passed, two, then three; and neither one attacked. Robyn took that as an auspicious sign. She continued to watch, more out of curiosity than strategy. There was no way to approach them without being caught. The second creature had unhinged its jaw, and tilting upwards, generated a sonic screech, the sound reverberating through Robyn's skull.

 _Screeeeeeeeeeee!_

Her ears popped like balloons, and she was sure she cried. She was positive that she screamed, agony tearing through her throat like someone had just cut her. And they did: those demonic creatures with their banshee-like howls sliced into her brain and broke her concentration. Her semblance stopped. The world returned to its smothering blackness, and she could no longer sense the creatures. Nor could she hear; every sound made a _wom-wom_ sort noise, and moving mentally hurt.

It was by that time that she needed air. Robyn had been under for nearly two minutes—a new record for her, though she never kept track. She was starting to feel the searing pain in her lungs, as opposed to her noggin, and paddled to the surface. The sun refreshed her face as she gulped down precious mouthfuls, quaking in her soaked clothes. When she opened her eyes, she stared into the livid expression of the little, old woman—terrifying, of course, with her windswept hair, her flaming eyes, and the typhoon that rotated crazily around its master.

Robyn put on a brave face, but it was no use. Tears streamed down her face, stuck before they reached her cheeks, and crystallizing into salt. Her lower lip trembled. Oh Luna. Poor Luna. She didn't know how to save her friend.

"What," the woman began, "did I tell you, young one? Get out of the water and go home. I will rescue your friend." She swished her hand, and Robyn felt herself get lifted upwards. A waterspout appeared beneath her, gently carrying her towards the shore.

"Wait!" Robyn said hoarsely. "Y-you can't. I have to help Luna. There are two things down there, they're big and scary and Luna is unconscious and…" She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "You have to let me stay."

"No. Go. This is no place for a child."

With a pushing motion, Robyn was sent back onto land. A moment later, she heard a light splash. The old woman dove into the lake, and the storm above ceased. Left behind were the worried and grace visages of the scene's audience. A few were muttering between each other, yet no one dared to move. A spell bound them in place—a command from the elder that was emphasized by an icy fence conjured between them and the lake. They could not disobey, not with the power that she held.

But who exactly was she?

This question raced through each person's mind. Only one person didn't care.

Robyn clenched her fists and glared at the adults. Why weren't they doing something? Didn't they have any ideas? She barreled her way to the nearest person, a man of about twenty, and tugged on his hand. He pulled away, a frown dotting his face. "What?" he said. "What do you want?"

"You've got to help," she pleaded. "Please. That old lady can't do it by herself."

"Do you know who that old lady is? She's from House Frost." He made rolling motions with his hands at her blank face "They're a noble family. Long line of Hunters and Huntresses? No? Look, all you need to know is this is their oldest living member. She's like a hundred fifty—or something ridiculous. She's fought in dozens of battles."

"But Luna," Robyn pressed, panic rising into her throat. " _Luna_! She's still down there. Sh-she's _been_ down there. She can't survive! It's cold, and there's no air, and… and…" Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Robyn started to hyperventilate. "And why aren't you helping her?!"

She swung at his legs and the dude leapt back. "Woah! Watch it, you crazy fiend! What the heck was that for? I can't help her. That lady is literally her only hope. How do you know she's not already eaten? Or worse?"

"Because I know! I know I know I know!" She beat her fists at him, forcing the post-teen into anger. He grabbed her by the arms and unceremoniously tossed her into the snow. The other adults voiced their disapproval and a burly man stomped over. He jabbed a thick finger into her aggressor's face.

"Don't touch her. She's distraught, and you're not helping."

"You're not either!" the dude exclaimed. He swiped snot from his tomato-red nose. "Come on, you're not doing anything, because you know as well as I what is _really_ happening." Robyn scrambled to her feet and cocked her head to listen. "That's Madame Glassié, and she's the Winter Maiden."

"Are you serious?" the man guffawed. "Hah! I thought you were going to speak sense." A squeal echoed across the lake, and a black shape arced in the air. It crashed on ice then slipped from view. "She's a powerful woman, but she's no fairytale. She's as human as they come."

The last sentence he said with obvious uncertainty. But when he went to say more, he was interrupted by three projectiles, erupting from the water. Two were black with white-red plates, typical of Grimm, and the third was plain white—though, as Robyn watched, crimson droplets dripped from the sky. They splattered messily and stained the coarse ice.

An omen.

Madame Glassié, arms around Luna, thudded sickly to earth, perched precariously on the edge of an ice island. She breathed heavily. Blood poured steadily from the considerable marks across her ribs. She softly apologized to the pint-sized Faunus girl. The child didn't deserve to be bled on.

Bit by bit, she turned to face the two beasts that nearly claimed Luna's life. Hmm, Luna, she thought languidly. How fitting. And she even had a moon-shaped pendant too. Glassié opened her palm and dropped the necklace on Luna's lap. Then she heaved herself up and sucked in a breath.

"Everyone please stay back." Her voice was calm, soothing even. "Find my sons. They can protect you once I fall." There were surprised shouts, and she smiled sadly. "Don't sound so shocked. I doubt any of you have seen, nor heard, of Grimm such as these. Ahhhck…" She shuddered and nodded to herself at the sound of pounding feet.

Then she struck, sliding forth her left foot and punching with her right fist, sending three ice javelins at the left Grimm. Without pausing, she spun; the sonic attack missed her and was countered by a watery cannon-like spout erupting from below, condensed and tight, like her fists. She uppercut the right Grimm and blasted it into the first, then tossed both onto land. The beasts roared in anger and shot volley after volley; the sound waves ricochet all around. The onlookers scattered, and some were thrown sprawling away.

Robyn yelped and dove from the muscled man. He landed in a heap besides her, clutching his head from the ringing pain. She didn't know how, but the old lady managed to defend against the intangible shouts. Flashing thrums escaped her hands as she advanced. Each step she took, more blood streamed down her side. The entire outer thigh of her left leg was a deep red, a gruesome pair of stockings that were certainly not cool, or fashionable. She was dying; everyone could see that. Still, no one helped. It's not like they could anyways.

People generally don't bring weapons to a skating rink.

"I'm right here," Glassié whispered. She laughed roughly and deflected another attack. "I count ten meters, my friends. Come and get me. I bet—" she coughed, "—you've never tasted old lady flesh before. Let me tell you: it's not all cracked up to be. Pay attention now. I'm only going to do this once."

She snapped her fingers at the right Grimm who had stopped firing. Soon the second followed the first. They watched her like wolves watching a rabbit. Slightly intrigued, but mostly hungry. The torpedo shaped shark monsters, oblong with dorsal fins, pectoral fins, and more, ceased their invisible assault. Motionless, their legs, those of a salamander's, seemed to shift and move. The skin appeared alive, scaly flecks falling into flaky piles. Glassié halted in front of the two and smirked.

"Such confidence from such intelligent creatures. You're supposed to be dead. At least that's what the scientists think. But you aren't, are you? You're very much alive and very much aware."

Raising a hand, a gargantuan trident materialized over her head. She inhaled deeply, filled her self with the smell of winter, with the magnificent breeze, and let the sun caress her cheek. It was amazing really. After all the years of defeating Grimm, it was only fitting that they would claim her life.

"I know the truth," she said. "I know you aren't Grimm, my dears."

Her free hand reached out to touch the triangular snouts. The two shark-salamanders didn't move. However, at her touch, they seemed to nuzzle into her palm. "My sweet friends, you're alive. I know it. I can feel it." She lovingly ran her thumb over its oily skin.

"I know you're as alive as Luna. I know that you think, that you desire, that you have the marks of life within your souls. What I don't know is how you came to be. Nor do I know how you were placed here, why you attacked. Perhaps it's not my place to know. Perhaps I can only believe in a preconceived plan, a transcendental story that each of us plays a part in; the soft notion of destiny."

She sighed heavily and leaned down to kiss the creatures.

"I do know who is responsible: man. Man has done this to you, and man shall meet his fate. No one deserves such power over creation. He has birthed you out of wedlock, and you have done as he bid." A single tear slid down her face. "No more. I shall set you free."

"I only ask that you forgive me as I have forgiven you."

Then, with finality, she dropped her hand and the trident split. Both halves impaled the heads of their respective Grimms, bent the bone armor inwards, and exited the other side in a gross squish. Bloody guts stuck to the trident tips, and, oddly enough, the liquid of life, that red, pulsing liquid, tip-tapped from the smooth exit points. The supposed demons fell and so did Glassié, to her knees, face to the sky.

She chuckled weakly. All around her there were shouts and screams, the voices laced with grief. Sirens sounded their sad caterwaul, and she could hear her sons. A blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A bandage snaked its way under her arms. A voice said sweet nothings into her ear. She appreciated every gesture, but there was still one last thing to do. Her smile stretched from ear to ear as she formulated a beautiful face in her mind's eye. She channeled her remaining strength into keeping that face bright.

Her oldest son noticed the grin and sighed in relief. "Mother is alright," she heard him say. "Thank goodness, too. I was so worried. Why in the world did no one jump in? I could've sworn…"

His voice became echo-y, like he spoke at one end of the tunnel and she was at the other. His words were inaudible, gradually disappearing altogether.

Then she tilted sideways.

And died.


End file.
